


They say he hungry

by TheMalapert



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Comedy, Competency, Court Drama, Crack Treated Seriously, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Idiots, Immortal Everyone, John Mulaney References, Megan Thee Stallion, Modern Era, Multi, Yennefer is a lawyer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28583979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMalapert/pseuds/TheMalapert
Summary: According to Fae law if a human has a single bite or a single drink while in the Fae realm, that human can never leave.They didn't exactly cover this in Jaskier's sex ed class.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 26
Kudos: 161





	They say he hungry

_Don’t wait up ;P_

It was the last text Jaskier sent to their group chat before his radio silence. He was allowed to sleep with other people. Yennefer liked to punish him for it, and Jaskier liked to be punished. Geralt? He just enjoyed the quiet night. 

There were no red flags when Geralt checked his phone that morning. He’d never quite grasped the modern idea of a weekend, so every sunup saw him already starting his day, a cup of coffee and the morning paper in his hands like any human dad. Cirilla had taken to weekends like a duck to water. In fact while on her third philosophy degree in half a century, she wrote her thesis on the concept of weekends. Geralt peeled the rubber band off his newspaper and ignored the front page. For a good few minutes, the only sound in the house was the newspaper rustling. 

Jaskier had once asked what Witchers did when they retired. The answer, apparently, was still: too damn much. 

Geralt sighed heavily, a trait he’d unwillingly picked up from Jaskier around the 18th century, and reached out to pluck the glowing letter that had flown in front of the International News section. With equal amounts of tiredness and dread, he tore open the envelope. 

Inside was the following missive:

_You are hereby summoned to the Summer Court of Titania to appear as witness and defense to one Dandelion. Place the letter into true grass and step into the circle. Attached is proof of our word. Please come post haste._

Geralt turned the envelope upside down and out fell Jaskier’s favorite guitar pick. He still favored the lute, but nothing plucked better strings than royal griffin bone, according to Jaskier. Geralt cursed, hoisting himself out of his favorite chair. He had things like that now. Favorite chairs, favorite mugs, favorite brands of coffee, and for _one weekend_ , he’d like to enjoy them in peace. 

“Yen!” He roused her from where she was spread eagle across the bed. He would never say it to her face for fear of his own testicles, but Yennefer of Vengerberg was a bed hog. 

She blinked, angrily coming to reality. Her eyes narrowed when she read the letter he thrust under her nose. 

“We’ll need to walk down to the park. Everything around here is Astroturf.”

…

Yennefer strode into the Summer Fae Court with a grimace and a briefcase. They’d made her take off her shoes—something about the sanctity of the court’s nature—so her hackles were already raised, her feathers firmly ruffled. She padded barefoot up the grassy aisle to where Jaskier stood, sweating and trying to grin. He was not nearly as charming as he thought he was, and her deathly glare said as much. He didn’t even try a _but you love me_ smile, and Yennefer started to list all the ways she could make him beg for mercy. 

Just as soon as they got this over with. 

There were sparsely populated pews on either side, headed by two tables. On the right where Yennefer was headed, Jaskier. His mouth was magically sealed, and Yennefer thanked the gods for small mercies. By the wrinkle in his nose, she knew he could tell what she was thinking. On the left was a tall, slightly purple Fae. At his elbow sat a beautiful young woman of their kind, eyes downcast. Her shoulders drew up around her bejeweled, pointed ears, higher and higher as Yennefer approached. 

_This looks familiar_ , Geralt had muttered as he was forced to disarm.

Yennefer answered, _you think humans came up with an entire judicial system on their own?_

A short wall blocked her view, but as Yennefer stepped through the gate into the actual judging area, her lips pulled back in a snarl. Jaskier’s hands were bound, his lips sealed together, but what really got her was that he was naked from the waist down. 

“How may I address you?” She snapped, glaring forward to the Fae sitting high behind a desk of gnarled, braided roots. A floating crown of petals lazily rotated about her head. Her skin was the color of blush until it faded into a deep purple at her fingers. Her expression was nothing other than supernaturally bored.

“The name they have given me is Titania, Queen of the Summer Fae, Victor of the Red Oak Dawn. Spring Bringer,” she said, her voice of the same quality one would expect an owl to use when whispering into a mouse’s ear. “But for the purposes of this trial, you may call me Your Honor.”

“Your Honor,” Yennefer said impatiently. She gestured at Jaskier’s nakedness. “Is this truly dignified?”

“The bard? No.” Titania’s pointer finger began to massage at her temple. 

“This is the state in which he was found,” the Fae to her left said. Yennefer’s gaze sliced over, and she caught a flicker of weakness before he returned to a stone wall of irritation. 

“May I inquire as to the state of the Lady? I don’t wish to delay the proceedings _at all_ , but I find these petty intimidation tactics beneath the Court of Summer,” Yennefer replied. 

Titania sat up, a spark of interest lighting behind her dull demeanor. The Fae to Yennefer’s left started to speak, but his Queen silenced him with a look. A wave of her hand later, Jaskier had his jeans back on. 

“Greatly appreciated, Your Honor.”

“May I have your name, woman who speaks with such… independence?” Titania asked. 

“You may call me Mage, Your Honor, and you may call my companion Witcher,” Yennefer said carefully, nodding towards Geralt in the row behind them. 

Titania smirked and clapped her hands. “Then let us begin! I hereby start the trial of the bard called Dandelion, prosecuted by the Duke Veltain and defended by the one called Mage. Dandelion stands accused of eating or drinking something of the Fae which by Fae law binds him to our realm.”

Yennefer’s doubt reared its head; Jaskier was stupid, but he wasn’t _that_ stupid. 

“What is he said to have eaten?” Yennefer caught a blush and stupid smirk on Jaskier’s face and regretted the question. Titania, likewise put upon, sighed. 

“The Lady Adelaide,” she answered. 

Geralt’s growl had Jaskier inching away from his lovers until he stood at the very edge of his table, halted by an invisible force. 

“I’ll hear opening statements from the prosecution, then defense, and then we’ll debate.” Titania opened her palm towards the Duke, and he stepped out from behind his table. The Lady Adelaide seemed to shrink ever smaller. 

“I intend to prove that Dandelion should be kept in the Fae realm, by force if necessary, because he has consumed that which binds him to us,” the Duke said. Titania turned her eyes to Yennefer, and the sorceress didn’t bother to walk forward.

She opened her briefcase and began sorting it onto the table as she said, “I intend to prove that vagina—” Yennefer gestured out at the Lady Adelaide, at Titania, in case she needed to be corrected, but she only got a shrug and a muttered _close enough_. “That vagina classifies neither as food nor drink, and it therefore is not subject to the same legislation as those things that are considered to be so.”

Geralt was glad they’d just started bingeing _The Practice_.

“Duke, your first argument,” Titania ordered.

“Yes,” the Fae said, and he began pacing. Rather like a douchebag, if one were to ask Yennefer. “Dandelion cannot deny that while engaging in this oral sexual activity, he consumed some of the Lady Adelaide’s natural _honey_ , if you will—“

“Objection,” Yennefer interrupted. “Prosecution is trying to prove the presence of food or drink; he cannot use the word in the definition.”

“Sustained. Stick to medical terms, Veltain.”

“Natural _secretions_ , then,” the Duke amended, and Yennefer saw Jaskier’s face pinch at the word. She was going to beat the poetry out of him, she swore to every god...

The Duke continued, “The question of the act of consuming is not up for debate. The nature of that consumed is what we explore here today. Fae law states that humans who eat food or drink anything from the Fae realm, that human’s life in their own realm is forfeit. In other words, if a human consumes something grown here, tended here, something that we have spent thousands of years perfecting—the human cannot leave our realm. Why do our own bodies not count? Like the wine, have we not aged and ripened in our lands? Like the corn, have we not been nourished by the very soil we use?”

After a beat of silence, Titania looked to Yennefer to answer the questions.

“If you like, I could squash you under my feet and stick you in a barrel for fifty years. I could peel away your outer layers and boil you until you’re tender,” Yennefer said. “Moving on from the fact that Fae bodies are much more than food and to call them such is both disturbing and degrading, the same argument could be said about this table, but I don’t envision you keeping humans if they decide to start gnawing on furniture. Did the wood for this table not grow here on your lands, and was it not shaped, like a child by a tutor, by the Fae masters?”

“I agree, Mage. Your next argument, Veltain.”

The Duke took a deep breath but plowed ahead.

“If you will not see that the nature of what Dandelion consumed should trigger our laws, then you must look at why those laws exist in the first place. Humans are greedy.” The Duke shot a sneer at the defense. “We learned long ago that they would take advantage of Fae hospitality, and we began making rules to force them to uphold their end of a social transaction. The food and drink rule is one of _many_ that hold humans responsible for partaking in Fae generosity. If not in the letter of the law, surely we can uphold the spirit of it.”

“I need to confer with the accused,” Yennefer said. She yanked Jaskier to her side with a hand digging into his shoulder. Titania snapped, and Jaskier’s lips peeled away from each other.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Yennefer was about to tear into him for being stupid, but he just sounded so pitiful, she decided it could wait.

“Did you pursue her, or did she pursue you?” She asked.

“She pursued me, and I only realized she was Fae when going back to her place meant taking me through a fucking mushroom ring,” Jaskier said.

“And you still tried to fuck her?” Yennefer hissed. The edge of Jaskier’s lips turned down, and he looked over her shoulder at where the Lady Adelaide was compressing into a singularity. 

“She didn’t mean any harm. You know, she didn’t even ask for my name? But then spoilsport showed up and dragged me here with my ass out.” 

Yennefer straightened up, and Titania snapped again, silencing Jaskier. If they got out of this in any sort of good graces, Yennefer might make a deal to be taught that particular spell. 

“The Lady approached Dandelion, and in return for showing him her home, Dandelion was attempting to pay the debt in a way that predates us all,” Yennefer said, knowing there were easily millenia between them. Veltain was turning more purple by the second, far from the confident lavender he was at the beginning. “I would even say that the Duke is in the most wrong out of those here in court, considering he interrupted Dandelion’s payment of his debt.”

“Duke?” Titania challenge, raising one eyebrow. 

The Duke spun to his table, digging through the papers sitting there. He lost a few over the edges, and they wilted to the ground. After a moment of foraging, he came up with a single sheet, triumphantly lifting it over his head and bringing it down to read it. 

“If you won’t listen to Fae reasoning, then listen to humans. From the words of renowned modern artist Megan Thee Stallion, ‘he say he hungry, this pussy the kitchen.’” The Duke set the paper down and threw his arms out wide. “If that doesn’t convince you that even humans know intimate acts can truly be considered a form of _eating_ …!”

Yennefer’s mind went horribly blank. Was she supposed to have a comeback for quoting ‘Cash Shit’ in the courtroom? She didn’t. Briefly, she seized on the fact that the kitchen was where food was _made_ , not that it could in itself be consumed, but she didn’t like the implications that had for the nature of babies. She would not get derailed into a Jonathan Swift style baby eating debate. Floundering, she threw out the only thing she could think of—

“Yeah, and in the immortal words of John Mulaney,” she said, trying to reign in the exasperation and sarcasm. “‘The bread of bread is bread.’ If we take the Duke’s extremely lenient interpretation style, we can take this to mean that bread is bread. Food is food, and drink is drink. To anyone with higher brain functions, it’s not much of an argument to call what Dandelion was doing actually eating. Your Honor, in all sincerity, if you invited me to dinner and oral sex was the only thing on the menu, I’d feel pretty deceived.”

Titania put a hand to her chin.

“I haven’t seen him yet.”

“Your Honor?”

“The human. Mulaney. I haven’t seen him yet. I take it he’s good?” Titania asked. 

“Quite,” Yen answered, feeling very much adrift. 

Titania sighed and frowned down at them. 

“You both make good points,” she said finally, and Yennefer could practically hear the Duke vibrating in his skin. “I’ll split the difference. We can’t keep him, but he can’t go back. We kill him and call it done.”

Jaskier’s head jerked up, wide eyes going to Yennefer, but all she did was smile. People thought Jaskier was inhuman because of his long lifespan and unnatural luck, but the truth was, he was perfectly human. There was just the small matter of—

“Death doesn’t want him,” Yennefer said, and the Queen’s eyebrows furrowed, adding confusion to the very short list of emotions she expressed. 

“I don’t follow you.”

“Death doesn’t want him,” Yennefer repeated. “So I suggest you return him to the human world before I take this to the Winter court and tell them you allowed the girl’s father to prosecute her lover on such preposterous grounds.”

Titania’s lips pursed at the mention of the Winter court, and her face soured for just a second. She slumped back and returned to her unaffected air. 

“Take him then.”

Jaskier leapt at the opening, finally untethered from the table. He scrambled through the gate, Geralt catching him when his foot caught on nothing, but Yennefer stayed, arms crossing over her chest.

“Your Honor,” she prodded, and Titania rolled her eyes. With a snap of her fingers, Jaskier’s typical stream of babble was undammed. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, sweet Melitele’s mercy, I feel like I’ve aged a decade. I don’t have any grays, do I? Of course I don’t, but you never know with their magic.” Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s hand and all but dragged him to the back. He bounced on his heels while Geralt collected his many swords and knives, even going so far as to pick up Yennefer’s shoes for her. Yennefer was close behind, and as soon as they were back in the human world, she buried her hand in Jaskier’s hair. She used it like a leash, tugging to emphasize her words.

“I’m gunna make you _cry_ before I’m satisfied,” she growled.

“Listen, Yen, please— _ow_ —it truly wasn’t my fault this time. She was perfectly lovely. It wasn’t like she wore a sign _here be crazy Fae fathers!_ Ow!” 

They continued as Yennefer marched him back to their home. Geralt followed sedately, and if he smiled a little, no one would know. She threatened him all the way to the bedroom, and the last thing Geralt heard was, “Oh, if you think I’m letting you come in the next _century_ , you’re out of your mind.”

He chuckled, returning to his favorite chair and his favorite mug and the International section of the newspaper. He join them once he was done reading. He looked forward to hearing Jaskier beg; he always did. As he settled in, old leather warming to his body, Geralt’s phone chirped. 

He fished it out of his pocket and checked the notification. It was a message from Ciri: _can you come pick me up?_

Another message came, this time dropping a location. Geralt opened his phone to see the address, not in any particular hurry. If it was an emergency, she would have said so. His plans for the afternoon went out the window when he saw the location was the edge of the Mariana Trench. 

What the _fuck_ was Ciri doing with the mermaids??

**Author's Note:**

> This thought formed while having a long conversation with my friends about fuckable monsters/aliens. One of my friends quoted Cash Shit, and I could not argue. Stick around, who knows? I might drop our centaur fucking conversation into my next modern AU fic lmao.
> 
> PLEASE give me your opinion. Is pussy eating a punishable offense by Fae law??


End file.
